Some Demons Live Forever
by Vegeta-shun
Summary: Mirai Trunks is haunted by his past. The pain he hates to remember, but it has made him stronger.


"Some Demons Live Forever"   
  
I see them sometimes in my sleep. In my sleep where I am defenseless, where I am alone. They are a part of my life that has been forgotten ... except when I sleep. When I sleep is where I see these memories, snapshots that someone has cruelly kept, forcing me to relive the torture. I was so young ...   
  
"So this is Vegeta's boy? He doesn't look very powerful."   
  
The android's voice haunts me. I couldn't have been more than four years old the first time.   
  
"That's what I was trying to tell you, Eighteen. Taking him wasn't even worth our time. We could be out destroying something right now."   
With a flick of her hair, "I'm tired of destroying buildings. I want to destroy something else." She looked at me, bent over at the waist, bringing her face close to mine. Her eyes studied me. I can still feel her breath. I can still remember the fear.   
With a smile, "Insulting Vegeta just gets the same reaction from him. I want to torment Vegeta in a new way."   
"He doesn't care about the kid. If he did, he'd be here right now. He wouldn't have let us take him."   
  
I heard the words. I couldn't help thinking they were true.   
  
She ran her fingers down my cheek. "Hmm. You're probably right. But I want to do this anyway. I want to find out. It's time for a different game, Seventeen."   
"If you must. Just make it quick."   
She looked at me, "Don't worry. It won't hurt for long. We'll find out if your dad cares for you or not."   
  
Unspeakable acts. Flashes of pain. Cold. Blood. Loss of consciousness. Loss of innocence.   
  
I was returned, broken, beaten, bruised. Hurt. Violated. And I was taken again. Time and time again. It went on for years. Seven, maybe eight years.   
  
My mother tried to hide me. She did. Ever since the first time. But it was no use. They always found me, pushing past my mother, and beating her down if need be. But I was always taken. My father was never there to stop them. He only saw the aftermath of it all.   
  
"So your father does care. Or maybe he just hates that he can't stop us."   
"Eighteen, there's no 'us.' This was all your idea."   
She glances at him over her shoulder, "You still watch."   
"Hmph. Because it's no fun to go out there by myself."   
"Then shut up about it. We got what we wanted in the long run anyway."   
A smile spread on his face, "Yeah. And that last stunt of yours not only pissed off Vegeta, but that runt, Goku's kid, was seething as well."   
"I know." She smiles and turns to me.   
  
I was older, twelve I think. Stronger, but shackled and terrified. All I could do was close my eyes and wait for it to be over.   
  
I just don't remember. I was unconscious when my father returned from his training. My mother had tried to hide me from him. She knew how irrational he could be. He was never there when I was taken away, but he always found me when I was brought back. He was always angered by what she did to me, but this time he took one look at me and flew off in a rage. Gohan had followed him, but there was nothing he could have done. He said it had all happened so fast ...   
  
I was there again, but they ignored me for the time being.   
"He died too quickly!"   
"Eighteen, that's your fault for fighting him at full strength."   
"I was excited." She smirked, "He was really pissed off."   
"Well, after what you had done to his kid, I think he had reason to be enraged. What I don't understand is, if Vegeta's dead, why did we still take his kid?"   
She was practically giddy, "Didn't you see Gohan?! That one has more strength than Vegeta. He'll put up more of a fight before we kill him."   
"That's what you said about Vegeta after killing Piccolo! But you see how easily he was killed."   
"Argh! I still can't believe that. All that Saiyan pride wasted on a weakling."   
Despite myself, I growled at that comment. She spun on her heels.   
"What was that?"   
"I don't think he likes you talking about his dear ole DEAD father like that."   
Approaching me, "And what are you going to do about that?" She leaned in close against the wall, one hand bracing her and the other one ... touching me.   
She continued, "You're as pathetic as your father. You're not a child any longer, but you still let us take you away."   
"Again with the 'us' thing ..."   
"Shut up, Seventeen." And back to me, "You've never even tried to stop me."   
It was true. But her hands were so mechanical and cruel. I was too scared.   
Grinning and her lips hovering just above mine, "You could have stopped this long ago. You could have saved your father's life. It is your fault he's dead, you know. You're too weak to defend yourself. He tried, but ..."   
The laughter. The blame. The hurt. It was all too much. Something inside me had grown with the years of abduction. Something awoke.   
My words. "I will kill you. I will kill you both." The first defiance.   
"Ha! Not likely." And she took my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. But I didn't care what she did. I had to speak. She had to know. And that wasn't going to be the end of it. I wasn't going to be idle any longer.   
I clenched my hand into a fist. The second defiance. She pried the fingers open again.   
"Your father fought me, but he wasn't strong enough. Just like you. You're not strong enough to resist." And she cut my hand deeply with her nails. Then she licked the blood from the wound as my eyes, full of clear blue hatred, bore into hers.   
  
I still have that scar. A long gash across the back of my hand. It won't fade. It reminds me of why I am the man I am today.   
  
"I was right. You won't stop me."   
  
I wouldn't. It was too late that day. But that was the last time they took me. I stopped waiting. I stopped hiding. But I did run. I ran and they chased. Gohan helped me. I got stronger. I wasn't strong enough to defeat them. I fought the androids and fighting me became their new thrill. Occasionally, she would grab me by the collar and between punches, she would whisper:   
"Are you proud of what you've become?"   
"I made you into this."   
"I want you to cry out in pain just like Vegeta before I killed him."   
"You'll never be strong enough."   
"You are still in my control."   
  
I never cried out in pain. The pain was internal. And I always got away. She always let me escape. "You are too much fun for me to kill. What would I do without you around?" she would mock.   
  
I got away. Far away. I became stronger still. My father helped me become stronger. In the distant past, he motivated me to train despite my physical limitations. His blood in my veins, he helped me obtain the strength I so desperately needed.   
  
And then I killed them both. But I still hear their voices. I still see her face. And the scars still persist and they won't fade. They don't heal.   
  
They are a part of me.   
They are who I am.   
I am my scars.   
I am this man standing proudly before you. 


End file.
